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 He did not answer at once. Just then we were passing a street lamp, and in the light he tried to see my face through the veil. At last he said in a cold and sarcastic voice, 'And it is merely to ask me my name that you have arranged this meeting.'

It was evident he felt quite angry, which amused me. I was shaking inside with laughter, but said seriously, 'Yes, Mr. Mörch, if you would be so kind as to do me this service, I won't keep you a moment longer. Probably some one is waiting for you.'

I glanced at him. He looked rather calm, but his voice trembled when he answered, 'You are evidently either very amusing or, forgive me, very foolish.'

I, in an angelic voice, 'How unkindly you speak to me. Have I offended you?'

He, with dignified coldness, 'Offended me, no; but to tell you the truth, it seems to me rather ridiculous to drag me out on a cold winter evening to this remote place, simply to ask me what my name is.'

I quietly and modestly, 'I never thought for a moment you would come, for I have been told that you get so many anonymous letters.'

He, a little softened, 'I came only because your handwriting interested me. Though disguised, it was so ladylike, so dainty and original.'

'You flatter me, Mr. Mörch, but really there is nothing in the least interesting about me, not even the fact that I am in love with you. Perhaps you thought I was?'